


Interlude V

by Cerdic519



Series: Elementary 221B [45]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Jealousy, M/M, Scheming, Worries, musings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 23:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10707795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Sherlock foresees problems ahead but cannot see a way round them, and someone plans a little medical drama.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shannon-Kind (Shannon_Kind)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannon_Kind/gifts).



_[Begin narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes]_

I did not realize it beforehand, but the case of the velveteen porter and one criminal's attempts to move me from this world into the next would change my relationship with my friend Watson. He had always looked at me with the sort of admiring loyalty that made me feel warm inside, but of course we never discussed certain 'emotional' things. I supposed that his brother Samuel was right in describing him as 'Mr. Legendary Emotional Constipation', because I quickly ascertained that any conversation that veered too close to those things called Feelings made my friend visibly uncomfortable.

Nevertheless, the fact that there had been an attempt on my life seemed to shake something loose in my friend, and I came to notice some subtle changes in his behaviour in the months thereafter. In particular, he took to joining me on the couch when we read of an evening. I presumed initially this was because of my strange tendency to generate warmth – I rarely if ever felt cold – but for someone like Watson, who valued his 'personal space' more than most, the fact that I was allowed into that space was noteworthy.

Then there was the matter of his writing-desk. When he wanted to write letters, Watson would sit at the table over by the window, which was much more well-lit. He rarely used his own writing-desk for writing – until now, when he suddenly took to doing just that. That it was directly behind the chair in which I sat by the fire, and that I sometimes caught him looking pensively at me, was.... interesting.

Watson's changing behaviour did not go unnoticed by others, most annoyingly by my brother Bacchus, someone to who the idea of keeping his opinions to himself is a concept unknown. One day he got quite cross that I would not leave my friend, who was off work with a rare bout of the flu, and travel to Hertfordshire to attend to some matter or other. We had Words, and my brother stormed out, threatening not to come back until I saw reason.

I so missed him over the next few weeks. And I told my friend that he could not have a celebration party, no matter how much he pouted. Although I did buy him an unexpected pie.

The only thing that worried me was that I could see the way in which our relationship was heading, as surely as a man paddling a canoe down a river could see the waterfall ahead of him. And I was powerless to stop the inevitable fall to my doom. Nor did I want to. Because Watson was so good, so great, so righteous, that the fall would be worth it.

_[End narration by Mr. Sherlock Holmes]_


	2. Chapter 2

Mrs. God stared suspiciously at Her husband.

“What are you planning?” She demanded.

“I am only making dreams come true”, He said, carefully applying some finishing touches to another marginal readjustment of reality that was in no way, shape or form rewriting history. Because He had said that it was not.

She looked over His shoulder.

“Seriously?” She asked. “The play within a play, now within another play? It's getting like those Russian dolls.”

“Our Righteous Man does not get jealous”, He grinned. “Or so the King of Denial keeps telling himself. So let us see how he copes with a little medical mayhem.....”


End file.
